


Makes You Feel Young Again

by PaulaMcG



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animagus, Gen, Grief/Mourning, HBP-era, Implied past Remus Lupin/Sirius Black, Memories, Mentors, Patronus Charm (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:09:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25628011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaulaMcG/pseuds/PaulaMcG
Summary: What Remus wants to tell Harry about the Animagi isn't exactly what Harry wants to hear.
Relationships: Remus Lupin & Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Makes You Feel Young Again

**Author's Note:**

> This is a scene of interaction between Remus and sixteen-year-old Harry, revised to work as an independent piece in honor of Harry's birthday.

"The children of the prophecy? No, my friends' sons," Remus remembers replying.

It was an unexpected favour to let both Harry and Neville leave Hogwarts in the middle of the term to visit him here, where he'd returned at last, defying the Ministry and setting aside his duties for the Order. But Remus wants to forget any need to be grateful to Dumbledore.

Continuing to show the lands to Harry alone, after Neville's insisted on staying in the herb garden, he catches himself not willing to talk yet, after all, or to even remember that he's finally got a home where he's been able to welcome this boy. He'd rather make believe that he's returned to James’s visit in the summer when the two of them – the four of them – were sixteen.

He's led their way first to the meadow, towards his parents’ grave. But now he hurries to guide Harry's attention away from it by pointing up to the sheep shelters, where they'll head next.

However, Harry stops and looks down at the tall grass, which has drenched the hems of their robes. “Thanks for the long letters,” he says abruptly. “They were great.”

“You’re welcome. I did intend to write what would interest you. But I’m afraid some parts turned out a bit long-winded, or otherwise not quite what you can enjoy best.”

“Well, yes. I wasn’t so happy to read about… Pettigrew.”

When starting to respond, Harry's kept his head turned away, allowing his gaze to wander from the brook in the valley to the edges of the pasture. At the moment he utters Peter’s name, however, he casts a quick but firm look into Remus’s eyes. No persistent demanding stare, but simply a glance to emphasise his honesty. 

Remus has hardly cherished any hope that he could help Harry feel sympathy for Peter yet. Still, he expected Harry to rather ignore this topic instead of tackling it immediately. 

“And I’m still at the beginning of the tale. I wonder if you’d like…”

“Yes, of course, I want to know more.”

“Look, you can see the brook down there, and now I’ll take you…”

But Harry's staring at the tombstone. As if during a discussion on Peter he needed any additional stimulus to remind him of his own parents’ deaths. “1979... You told me about them…”

“About their lives, yes, in the first long letter. I’d rather tell you more about your parents’ lives than about any deaths.”

“But we must… remember all the deaths. To stop more deaths from happening, and to revenge.”

“Don’t you think we must choose between those two goals?”

Harry frowns. “I don’t understand. You’re everyone’s enemy – and still a pacifist.”

“Not quite everyone’s. I hope not. The prophecy doesn’t say anything about you and Peter, so it’s up to you.”

“And up to him. You were ready to kill him – together…”

“No!” Remus must brace himself for talking about this, and about Sirius, too. “No, I never meant to. All right, I confess that for a moment I felt like killing him, and... This must be worse in practice. I made him understand that I really meant to do it. But do you think I was able to see anything clearly? At that moment? Maybe it looked like I was in control of the situation. But I didn’t manage to consider Peter’s or Sirius’s good any more than what it would have done to my... the rest of my humanity if… You know, I’ve concluded that what happened was actually the best alternative. Both my friends were at least free and had their souls – whatever was left of them. What I regret is that by ignoring the approaching moonrise I undid Sirius’s hopes for being declared innocent… and that I scared Peter off. I kept looking for Peter all through the following year, but after what I had said… how could he have contacted me for shelter or advice?”

“How could you… still think of helping him?”

The monologue and the uphill have made Remus breathless. He's already used to the lack of self-inflicted wounds, and the inevitable post-transformation stiffness of his body, instead, is now relatively more disturbing than after the worst full moons. Besides, his legs feel heavy particularly in comparison with the vivid memory of the canine limbs. Perhaps this tiredness makes him less than happy to have a chance to explain his attitude towards Peter sooner than he expected. He stands still for a moment to draw a deep breath before continuing both his stroll and his explanation in a slower pace.

“You know I mourned him, too, for thirteen years. And he had been a friend… even my best friend. It must be hard to imagine how I felt and how I still feel. There have been times, of course, when any thought of Peter has been unbearable. Even in case Peter had been forced to the betrayal, he should, of course, not have let Sirius pay for it. Even if the deaths of the twelve outsiders had been an accident, after Sirius had been taken to Azkaban for that, Peter should have come out to plead guilty. Perhaps I should have concluded it best to kill Peter – to save him from a worse fate. But you must understand that it would not have made any sense to kill Peter. Killing him would have made it very hard to prove Sirius’s innocence ever. I'm... grateful to you for stopping us.”

“I didn’t mean to set him free.”

“No, of course not. You felt he deserved something worse than death.”

“I didn’t want the two of you to become murderers. I said he had to be handed to the ministry, to the Dementors.”

At last they've reached the first sheep shed. Remus sits down on the bench and leans his head against the stone wall. “His soul would have been sucked out. So easily, without stopping to consider what we were doing, we would all have taken part in what no human has the right to do – if I had not transformed…”

“But that’s how we didn’t get anyone to believe… and he got the chance to help Voldemort again!”

Remus closes his eyes. “I didn’t decide to help him escape. We just have to accept that all this was meant to happen for a purpose.”

“Things just happen… predestined or something.” Harry surprises Remus by actually sitting down beside him.

“Still, we must choose what we want to do, even though in the end we might be unable to act according to our plans.”

“I don’t know what else I can want – what else there could be left than revenge. That’s what we want – Neville, too.”

“In that case perhaps your time here can be a holiday. You can just relax and agree to do something unimportant for a change. Like sightseeing. Over there, that’s where I was bitten in June 1963.” 

Remus feels like grabbing Harry’s hand and leading him into the woods. In the vivid dream right after his homecoming someone’s green eyes encouraged him to move on. But it must have been nobody but the elf. The two of them aren't approaching the woods, not even standing up. The post-full-moon weariness in his body is, after all, accompanied by traces of the familiar threat of depression. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry says quietly. “You must be still tired because of the full moon.”

“Not too tired, don’t worry. Thanks to Hedwig as my companion, once again. Besides, I think I’ve finally learnt something about transforming willingly.”

There it is again – perhaps disguised as cynicism, or even something harder to recognise – and it amuses him: the recklessness which compensates for the depression and which he's tried to deny for years. What a pity that Harry's just missed the potentially alarming confession that he's on his way to embrace the wolf. Or perhaps Harry only wants to avoid another difficult topic and another confrontation.

“Willingly…” Harry says. “You’ve just started telling me how my father and… the others... How did you say it? Volunteered to change for you. That’s what I’d like to hear more about next – on this holiday.”

“I’ll be happy to tell you. But I wouldn’t like to argue with you. I’ll tell you the story of the three Animagi – and the beast and the beauty, too – and you can interpret it in the way you want to.”

“That’s fine… sounds great, I mean. Can you start now?”

“I’d better take every opportunity. And I’ll continue to give something to you in written form as well. I have other things to do, too, and you can take part in everything we do here, if you don’t mind. You're allowed to stay until the end of the month and spend Halloween here, aren’t you? Of course, you’ll only stay if you like it here…”

“I’m sure I will – we both will, Neville and I.”

“Thank you. Your visit really means a lot to me. Now what do you say, if I take you for a stroll in the woods, so we won’t be interrupted by anyone working on the fields?” Remus tries to keep his tone light. “Perhaps you'll have questions about this next part of the story.”

It would be hard to explain to Harry what walking to the woods together meant to him. Still, giving the impression that it meant nothing special was dishonest. On the other hand, was it ever possible for two individuals to share the same meaning of anything?

They've started walking in silence across the fields. Absorbed in his thoughts, Remus has watched the young people working further away, in order to greet them with a wave of his hand when they happen to look up and notice him. 

Reaching the edge of the woods, he’s overwhelmed by the wilder, harsher smells of life and decay. enticing and repulsive. The light's suddenly scarce. The jubilant chorus he remembers from the schoolboy’s summer holidays has been replaced with ominous silence. A single cry of a lonely bird startles him, and he stumbles on the roots.

But now he feels a firm grip on his elbow. Regaining his balance, he presses his other hand over Harry’s hand, and without any conscious intention, flashes a wide grin.

“Have you not… Do you come here often?” Harry asks.

“No, I haven’t been here since when, last summer, I regained the memory of the bite – or ever after my parents died. But I used to come here when I was young.”

“So I hope this makes you feel young again.”

“You do. Thank you. Let me continue the story now, while we’re taking this path towards a clearing.”

Despite his drenched shoes and hems, he no longer feels cold. The wind's shaking the tops of the trees enough to make some heavy drops fall as belated rain; down here among the trunks, however, the air's almost still. Besides, new excitement makes them both walk fast. 

Remus has reluctantly let Harry pull away the supporting hand. Still, the connection hasn't been disrupted. He's staying beside Harry despite the narrowness of the path. The undergrowth's scarce, and circling a tree every now and then feels like a game which makes his steps only lighter. He turns to seek eye contact as often as he can, and Harry does the same while listening intently and throwing in his comments.

“You know, they were all curious. Just like you. After the initial absurd idea that they could keep me company like the rat had… they wanted to find out how it would be possible.”

“Did you know that McGonagall was an Animagus?” Harry asks. “She was your Head of House, too, wasn’t she?”

“Yes, she was, and we knew. But it had never before occurred to us to play with the idea of becoming Animagi.”

“Had she warned the students against it? explained that it was illegal?”

“No, actually she had not. She had simply stated that there were only those Animagi who were listed in a register. And we’d somehow got the impression that the ability was innate – something you couldn’t learn and practise. But Sirius was enough of a dissident to insist that she must have misled us…”

“Sirius…” Harry's said it tentatively. Can this be the first time he's uttered the name ever since…? Still, he repeats it without actual need, and more firmly, with pride in his voice. “Sirius had the best ideas, didn’t he? Together with James, of course.”

“Well, for the original idea we must give credit to Peter.” Remus glances at Harry’s face and can’t help smiling as he sees the displeasure he expected. He catches himself still tempted to challenge the boy: to continue to narrate facts Harry doesn't like to hear, and even to colour them according to his own interpretation. “It was, in fact, not so unusual,” he says, launching into an explanation. “James and Sirius were the bold executors – or at least they hardly ever agreed to stay out of the heat of action. The best mischief was usually the result of co-operation on every level, and Peter and I ventured to carry out missions, too, of stealth in particular. We were not suspected as easily as our more famous fellow pranksters. On the other hand, each of us had original ideas. But it’s undeniable that Peter had somehow the most extravagant imagination. And in this case it was Peter’s vision first, although Sirius hurried to adopt it, too – during the first discussion, which I reported to you in that letter… according to how my memory serves me.”

“Your memory might serve you wrong – or right, as you want to take it. You want to defend him, to show him in a better light.”

“Whom? ‘The rat’?” The last word's slipped from Remus in a mocking tone without a second thought. That was what Sirius insisted on calling Peter all through the last two years: the rat. 

In Harry’s voice the bitterness gives way to more enthusiastic conviction. “Yes, that’s what he was, after all, wasn’t he? A dirty rat.”

This is exactly what Remus has said he wants to avoid. Still, he somehow enjoys the moment: the illusion that, after James in that memory of the summer visit, another Marauder – Sirius himself – has returned to him in Harry’s form. In any case he refuses to reveal this to Harry. “Let’s not argue about what Peter was years later or what he is now. Being a rat would have had no negative connotation all through those years anyway. A rat was the creature who was able to stay by me through the full-moon nights. It was Peter’s crazy idea to become one – and it seems he stayed loyal to that initial idea.”

“But James and Sirius developed the idea to something better… or they had something more in them.” 

Remus turns to face Harry, who's remained a few steps behind ever since the rat was mentioned. “I’m sure they had a good amount of ambition. And they acquired admirable forms as Animagi. But who can say that Wormtail’s form was not as good or better in the end… and no, I don’t mean the very end, or what I thought was the end… in 1981. I mean that a rat served me and the Marauders well.”

“Served you?” Harry sounds suspicious.

“Yes, he did. A stag and a dog were certainly not able to roam the corridors of Hogwarts at night unnoticed. And Peter didn’t need to defend himself against the wolf with the help of a strong body. Even without their human minds the three of them would have been safe in any animal forms. It’s turned out to be the truth that at least this werewolf has no urge to kill…”

“But you said that the two big animals could keep you in check.”

“That’s true. As I told you… We were foolhardy. I didn’t force them to give up the idea to set the wolf free to run under the moon. In their company the wolf soon stopped harming himself, even gnawing the front paws, but they said he was still restless. And they were reckless enough to insist on putting an end to the rest of the wolf’s suffering. The full-moon celebrations must have been pure bliss. Running free with them… Prongs and Padfoot just needed to stop the wolf from going towards people of the village. Afterwards they laughed and talked about near misses.”

“So you… the wolf still wanted to bite and kill humans, of course?”

Why has the conversation taken this turn? This is not what they wanted to talk about, but Remus must do his best to reply. 

“I don’t actually know if smells of humans attracted the wolf and made him murderous while he was in his friends’ company, but that’s what we have to assume. I could hardly remember anything after those nights. To be honest, I wasn’t honest to them, or to myself either. I pretended I had managed to store something of it in my human consciousness. And that’s why they actually told me less than I wished. Until a year ago I confessed… and asked Sirius to tell me, to describe how we had enjoyed each other’s company during those full-moon nights. I asked him to remember, while it was so hard for him to reach any of his best memories. And he did it in order to share it all with me. And he shared all of it. He talked to me about it – even about Wormtail as my loyal companion. For the first time ever Sirius stayed with me in his human form all through my transformation, and we roamed the wilderness together again.”

“He left the house to spend the full moons with you?”

“Yes, he did, almost every month. Once again we were reckless. But that was one of the best gifts I received from him…”

“And he from you, don’t you think?”

This second question finally breaks the painless flow of memories. Remus continues to stare up at the foliage, willing the tears to stop from forming. “Sorry, I got carried away,” he manages to say. “This was not what…”

“I… wanted to know about this, too. But, really, I was going to ask… about the Animagus transformation. How did they actually do it?” Now Harry's walking faster again, and his casual glance back makes it easy for Remus to go on.

“Well, slowly. I told you it took them almost three years…”

“But how? What do you need to do to change?”

“I hope you’re not thinking that you should become an Animagus – so that you’d be like your father and…”

“No, it’s not that! And what if it is?” A defiant gaze shows that Harry has no need to hide his emotions – but no patience to discuss them either.

Remus must try his best to get to the point, too. “It requires a lot of time and concentration.”

“But I don’t have to start from zero like they did – if you agree to tell me what you know.”

“And you know I’ve set out to tell you everything I know. Still, it’s illegal.”

“So what? You don’t hesitate to break laws anymore.”

“I don’t break reasonable rules except to serve a good cause. All right, perhaps in principle I could train you to change without any major risk, in case that is truly what you need. You could even apply for a permission to practise. The ministry might not deny it from the Boy Who Lived. But you couldn’t appoint me as your official tutor… perhaps Minerva, although I’m sure she wouldn’t like the idea. Not now. You know, there are other things you should concentrate on.”

Remus catches himself fearing that this reasoning will convince Harry – either to give up the idea or to approach Minerva and the ministry.

“They did it while they were top students,” Harry says impatiently. “James and Sirius, I mean. And an animal form can be useful… when I’m fulfilling my duty, too. And I could be with you just like…”

“Harry, please… Thank you. I don’t want to say I don’t need it. But, to be honest, I could almost have said it to Sirius a year ago. I had learnt to stop the wolf’s aggression with the help of an ordinary animal. When I just had a place where an animal could be locked in with me. Of course, the wolf must have been a lot happier when running free with a friend. But now… I don’t think you should regard me as even a part of the reason… Perhaps some day, when all this is over. In any case I’d like to advise you not to hurry with learning now something like this.”

“But now is when I want to start at least. At this age they had already become Animagi.”

“You need to be yourself, not…”

“But this is what I am – how I’m becoming myself. Learning from them and from you.”

It's been hard for Remus to even consider refusing to teach something to this boy. And now that Harry appeals to him, denying his arguments, it's almost a relief to feel it's acceptable to say, “I’ll tell you what I know, if you promise not to hurry. You’ll see that you can’t force it anyway. This is wandless magic, you know.”

“Yes? Wandless. And that means…?”

“That means I can’t resist deviating from your curriculum in this way. I believe you’d better know something about this kind of magic. And whenever this kind of magic is concerned – you’ll learn only what you need.”

Harry's apparently too excited to ponder now what Remus has said. “So you promise to help me? I don’t think I care about permissions or official tutors. I want to do it just like… Perhaps more quickly because I have your help. All right, perhaps not quickly, but…”

“You mustn’t forget I never learnt to transform.” 

Somehow that sounds like a bad joke. After his almost uncharacteristic babbling Harry's speechless for a while.

They've arrived at the edge of a small clearing, and the lack of a single path to follow, together with the turn in the conversation, has made them both stop. Remus takes a step aside and leans against a tree trunk, taking in the sight.

He used to come and sit on the grass of this clearing in glorious summer sunlight, and at the moment the colours of autumn are hardly glowing in the light of a cloudy afternoon. Now he knows this place in another illumination. But somehow the black and white image of his nightmare has started to shift, to acquire nuances. The blood on his palms has, after all, become a sign of bearable pain.

Harry breaks the silence with hesitant words. “You could have become an Animagus, too, couldn’t you?”

“No, I doubt it. It’s no use speculating what I would have become, if I’d never been bitten. By the way, I think it took place right here. Of course, there’s no research on this kind of matters, but I assume a werewolf’s body is too unstable and… at least in the case of a solitary, deprived individual, it’s too weak for the performance of such magic.”

Harry’s settled to sit with his back against another broad trunk. As Remus has no cloak to protect him against the damp ground, he remains standing, but he turns towards Harry, determined to stay on the topic.

“That’s not the point now. But you’d better realise that I had quite enough of transformations recurring in my life, so I wasn’t exactly fascinated by the whole prospect – not on my friends’ behalf either. You must understand I didn’t indulge in the project quite in the way they did, although I could hardly resist receiving any new exciting knowledge. Soon I was absorbed in studying the topic together with them. But at first I concentrated more on trying to find information on werewolves’ reactions to animals. It was rather frustrating… I’m sorry. This must bore you. They didn’t want to listen to my doubts either.”

Why is he talking about himself again? This doesn't concern Harry’s aspirations, but he is, of course, still tempted to continue his tale.

And Harry, despite all impatience, encourages him. “I’ll listen.”

“If you mean it… The beginning of the project was just tiresome work at the library. We used to sneak to the restricted section at night. While the three of them ploughed through books about Animagi, trying to find some practical instructions, I ended up reading repulsive descriptions of the unrelenting aggression of my kind of monsters. It made me feel sick, and that worried Peter.”

Now avoiding eye contact, Remus continues as if he were writing the account down. “I thought he wanted to give up, too. After a few nights he asked me – in the presence of the others – to stay behind in the dormitory with him, saying he was just tired, but certainly knowing that James and Sirius thought he was backing out. But he was just covering up for me, and when we were alone he said, ‘Don’t worry. What does it matter how other werewolves act?’ I can still see him in my mind. He was sitting on my bed, as I was lying there, pretending to read. He was pale and shaking of fear and excitement. And he said, ‘You didn’t hurt a rat, and I’ll be a rat. Then I’ll be there to tell you not to hurt yourself either.’” 

Remus feels compelled to close his eyes for a moment. To his relief Harry says nothing.

“Thank you for listening. I promise to tell you later more about James and Sirius, too. And about the wandless magic.”

“And what I have to actually do, so that I can change.”

“But you mustn’t expect something like the Patronus lessons.”

“All right. Oh…Would you like me to show it to you now?” Standing up nimbly, Harry pulls out his wand.

It takes Remus a moment to realise what he's talking about.

“As you asked me in the letter… I haven’t tried the spell since the OWL exam. But you know, I gave some Patronus lessons myself last year, so it shouldn’t be difficult any more, especially not at a happy moment like this.”

The mere fact that Harry hasn't forgotten the request makes Remus smile. “Oh yes. I asked you to let me see Prongs. Yes, please.”

With his eyes half closed Harry concentrates for a moment, smiling. “Expecto Patronum!” The spell is like a triumphant explosion. 

A dazzling silver figure bursts out of his wand. A stag. 

Prongs is now galloping in a circle around them, with his proud head high. But the hooves make no sound, and this stag shines like the moon itself, in nauseating motion. As if sensing Remus’s desperation, the stag slows down, almost stops and bows his head. The gaze that meets Remus’s is hopelessly distant. Still, the stag’s form vanishes first, and the vision of the eyes remains in surprising warmth.

James’s love is still there, protecting Harry. It had been there even before Harry knew. Before he succeeded in conjuring the Patronus, even before he knew how his parents had given their lives for him. All through those seemingly hopeless years when the child was abused by his relatives. When Remus himself was drifting, not knowing a purpose for his survival. All the love they had once received was still there to save them from breaking down. To finally bring them back to where they belong.

“How about yours?”

“What?” 

Startled by Harry’s question Remus turns to him – to now see the image of James in him more clearly than ever. Harry is not shorter than James, after all, and now, unlike in July, he looks healthy and strong.

“How about your Patronus?” Harry repeats. “You’ve never shown me or told me what yours is.”

“I told you I’m not good at…”

“But you used the spell on the train. Ron and Hermione told me how you drove away the Dementor.”

“They must have told you that the Patronus had no distinct form. It was barely able to banish one Dementor.”

Harry looks embarrassed. He clearly hesitates to say anything that would force his teacher to confess more openly such a shame as inability to conjure a corporeal Patronus. 

“I learnt the spell when I was young. Not when I was thirteen or sixteen. But soon after we had left Hogwarts and the war had started. When we were invited to the Order. After that… after the end of the war it got harder to focus on a happy memory, although I think the subconscious memory which the Dementors forced me to relive remained always the same. Now I wonder… if it will be replaced by something else, as I’ve regained that nightmare into my conscious mind. In any case, when I’m not actually facing a Dementor, and at a happy moment like this… I suppose I’ll succeed, too. I admit a big part of the problem is that I’ve never been exactly proud to show my Patronus – the form of what is supposed to protect me.”

“Why…” Harry starts.

But Remus is already lifting his wand.

His happiest memory. He picks the same one he’s always been prepared to use during the past year. The memory of the summer evening when he got Sirius back. Offered him a bath and the better robes, and the food he had brought from the restaurant where he worked. How they supported each other when climbing up the stairs, laughing at his goblin landlady, at themselves. Finally, healing the wounded paws…

“Expecto Patronum!” 

A silver light like the moon blinds him. Half reluctantly he screws up his eyes to discern its form as soon as possible. But the image only glances at him and turns away, like always. After one circle it runs straight across the clearing, towards the opposite edge of it, and the outlines of its hind legs, its tail, its alert ears are painfully clear. This time, however, having almost disappeared among the trunks, the canine stops and turns to stare at him once more, as if asking whether he's ready to follow. And it's gone.

“Is it Padfoot?” Harry asks.

“No, I’m afraid it’s only a… wolf.”

Perhaps Harry can hear that in this confession there's neither shame nor bitterness, not even humility left.

**Author's Note:**

> The scene is from [Chapter Thirteen: Volunteering to Change](https://paulamcg.livejournal.com/39632.html) of my canon-divergent-after-OotP novel Remus Lupin and the Revolt of the Creatures.


End file.
